Generation W
by minimestiza
Summary: The war is over and newly qualified Auror Victoire Weasley gets to be a typical twenty-something; wondering what the hell she's meant to be doing. At least none of her friends seem to have it together either. This is a chronicle of them figuring it out because being an adult it hard


**Prologue - A Dramatis Personae**

Three witches in a coming of age epic-

"Come on though, our department is fucking nuts. They kick it pretty old school with the whole terrifying ordeals are character building thing. Oh, you're a bit of a wet blanket are you? No worries, it's nothing a healthy dose of PTSD can't sort out," Tansy said. She kicked off her shoes and settled down into her chair, taking a moment to basque in herself like a cat in a sunbeam. "I mean, think about it. What was the first thing they did to check if you were Auror material? Lock you in a room with a Boggart and say you can't cast Ridikkulus. You're just stuck in there shitting bricks until you cry and can't take it anymore. I feel sorry for the new intake."

"We dealt with Boggart's with school, but that's when you had teenage fears. Adult ones are a darker beast altogether," Melinoe replied. "So many girls had Boggarts of their crush calling them ugly … or spiders."

"You have to give it to the department," Victoire said, handing two wine glasses to her colleagues, "It's brutally effective."

She could see the logic behind it- it was an easy litmus test to weed out the ones that would break down in stressful situations. It was also easy to gauge a person's motivations and dreams from their greatest fear. Neat little snapshots to judge them on.

She thought the senior Aurors also meant it as a bonding experience. They had dredged the deepest, darkest parts of their minds. After the test, they had gone to the pub and divulged, wine in hand. It was cathartic. The whole thing was shorthand for here I am. This is what I'm about.

She could imagine the slips of paper with their essentials written on hidden somewhere in a file deep in the Ministry.

* * *

**Tansy Wilde - Muggleborn - Ravenclaw**

**Beater 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th Year, Charms Club President**

**Boggart: Failure**

My Boggart wasn't a surprise for me. I'm fairly uncomplicated, don't have any repressed cluster fucks hiding in my head. What did surprise me was how far it escalated, it was like it was royally pissed off that I tried not to give a crap. Then it was like, man, this bitch is going down. All the way down.

It basically showed me failing at each and every one of my dreams. First they were the silly fancies that I had. I crashed out of a Grand Prix in a fiery hot mess. My space shuttle burnt up on re-entry. Then it started getting nasty. I failed to do the most basic things that I though any person who had their shit together could manage. I failed the Auror test. I lost a job. I lost a husband and my children left with them. My family disowned me. I broke my wand. The KO shot- the thing turned into me. I watched myself summon a noose out of thin air and hang myself.

They decided to interrupt when I tried to cut myself down.

**Melinoe de Beauvoir - Pureblood - Slytherin**

**Prefect, 6th and 7th Year Duelling Champion**

**Boggart: Helplessness**

Unfortunately, I did have some repressed cluster fucks, as Tansy so eloquently put it. It was charmingly naive of me to expect a giant house spider or hornet's nest or that one drunk creepy uncle who always mentions how you've blossomed into a beautiful young lady at every family gatherings.

The Boggart turned into a man. Tall and powerful. He was winding ropes between his hands. He came towards me and I knew he wanted to hurt me. He followed me around the room so I tried to curse off his legs. But then he just split and there were two of them. I tried again and four. He multiplied, more and more. I cast a shield, but they kept coming and there were more. They pressed themselves up against the barrier and there was nothing I could do. I could feel myself get weaker and weaker. Next thing I know, I'm being asked if I was OK. I had passed out- magical exhaustion- from trying to keep the barrier up.

**Victoire Weasley - ⅛ Veela, Halfblood - Gryffindor**

**Prefect, Head Girl, Keeper 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th Year**

**Boggart: Loneliness**

Harry turned into my Boggart at one point. My family was all in the room. My mum, dad, sister, brother, all the Weasleys. And Teddy. I'll never forget the look on his face- on any of their faces. They all hated me. I could feel it in my bones, this crushing malice. Then one by one, the hate went out like lights from their eyes and they were staring right through me, like I wasn't even there. Everyone I loved looked at me as if I was a stranger that had just entered their home. All those years of work and experience and love, just all gone. I was nobody. I was alone. It feels pathetic. What am I? 13? Wah, my boyfriend doesn't love me anymore. I feel like such a cliche.

* * *

"We've been fully qualified for, what, a week? And already Melinoe has accio'd a bag of pixie dust out of someone's arse. In the arse end of Knockturn Alley," Tansy snorted.

"Well you two were pussyfooting about it," she drawled in reply. She had the aristocratic tendency of elongating her vowels into lazy sounds.

"We were restraining him," Victoire lied.

"The comedy of people stowing narcotics up their back passage will probably wear off the longer we're in the job but for now, because we're fucking children, it's fucking hilarious," Tansy paused. "Do you guys ever get the feeling we shouldn't be allowed to be Aurors?"

"Definitely."

"Without a doubt."

"Here's to us then, the shining future of our fucked up department after three years of pretty dodgy training methods," she said, raising her glass. "May we incompetently fight evil doers for the foreseeable future."

Their wine glasses clinked in unison.

Teddy lay asleep next to her. The bed was stiflingly hot. She peeled away from his body, sitting up in bed to study his face, painted cold by blue night time hues. He liked to give names to the faces he most often wears. He would say, I think this one looks like a James, don't you think? That night it was Sam, with freckles, a cheeky smile, warm and loving. The only thing that was constant were his eyes. He had the eyes of an old soul. He was old before his time, having no parents. Though he was proud- his parents were war heroes and he got to wear his father's last name like a medal.

She was proud of him. Always had been. Imagine her girlish glee when she got to show off on the Hogwarts Express, kissing him. Nothing to see here, just my boyfriend, the trainee Auror. Look at the silver locket he bought me for my birthday. Her stomach turned in on itself, felt like it was punching itself. She was consumed with idiocy and it felt like an itch in her brain; a common occurrence when she thought about what she was like when she was younger.

* * *

17 Year Old Victoire vs 21 Year Old Victoire:

The Conclusions Reached While Victoire Tried To Sleep

17 achieved a milestone - got a boyfriend. She felt complete and euphoric. Her depleted confidence, a symptom of puberty, was rising. 21 could sadly observe that self-worth shouldn't be validated by a relationship with a man. Such are the priorities and pressures of being a teenage girl. Though now she knew better.

17 pleased everyone. Her adamant belief that her Gryffindor sisterhood would be there till the end was sweetly naive. 21 was used to seeing old friends turn into strangers. She thought she had better friends now, even if she was still learning about Melinoe and Tansy.

17 thought she was clever. 21 knew it. Also applied to the following: pretty, powerful, brave.

17 was optimistic. 21 expected shit to hit the fan.

17 viewed her future self as a different person. Future self can deal with bad decisions. Not that 21 felt she could blame her. 21 had trouble visualising the future. At all.

17 didn't know what she's really doing, but that was OK. 21 didn't know what she's really doing, but that was not OK. 21 felt she should be on top of everything.

Maybe 21 wasn't as great as she thought.

* * *

Teddy frightened her sometimes. He could be whoever he wanted to be. Appearance was everything and at a thought he could change his airs and command respect. He seemed so transient, always evolving. She felt fixed in position, worried he might grow away from her.

This is why she hated being alone. She tormented herself. Even in happiness, she was anxious. There had to be a catch.

She settled back down, reassuring herself that- I love him and he loves me. Everything is fine.

Well I can't be certain he loves me, but at least I love him.

Well, can't be certain of that either with that whole scared of being alone thing I have going for me.

You know what? Fuck Boggarts.


End file.
